Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

century, although he did manage to miss out on an unattributed Gainsborough . . .’
    ‘He failed to spot what you might call a “sleeper”?’
    ‘Very good, Canon Chambers, you’re catching up on the lingo.’
    ‘Why did Simon Hackford stop working here?’
    ‘Dominic told me that he began to doubt his abilities. He didn’t feel that he could quite trust him any more and then, after I came along, they saw rather less of each other. I don’t think there was any great falling out: just a drifting apart. Sometimes friendships fade away, don’t they?’
    ‘You’re a bit young to know that.’
    ‘I saw it at university, Canon Chambers. People develop sudden likings for each other and then, when they get to know each other better, that knowledge isn’t as exciting as the initial promise . . .’
    Amanda sighed. ‘It happens in London all the time. It’s so hard to know whether people are genuine or not. Don’t you agree, Sidney?’
    ‘I have to give people the benefit of the doubt, of course.’
    ‘But not when you are investigating a murder, surely?’
    ‘No,’ Sidney agreed. His thoughts were becoming alarmingly familiar. ‘Then, it seems, I can’t think like a priest at all.’
     
    The next day Sidney and Amanda met for an early lunch at Bleu Blanc Rouge. Sidney had not been inside the restaurant before and was unsurprised to discover that it lived up to its name. With its white walls, red gingham tablecloths and blue napkins, everything about it suggested the tricolour. Enlarged photographs and framed copies of old newspapers celebrating the 1945 liberation of Paris covered the walls and the menu offered unremittingly French fare: pâté, onion tart, omelettes and potage parmentier ; boeuf bourguignon , coq au vin , rabbit and turbot.
    ‘Would you like a glass of champagne?’ Michel Morel asked as he took their coats.
    ‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’ Sidney asked, wondering how his host could afford to make such an extravagant gesture.
    The chef ignored him. ‘Where I was trained the cuisinier began each day with champagne. He is the greatest chef in France, Fernand Point.’
    ‘I think I’ve heard of him,’ Sidney replied. ‘Some friends of mine went to his restaurant after the war. La Pyramide . . .’
    ‘Exactly so. He shares a bottle with the barber who shaves him each morning.’
    Amanda smiled. ‘He must be drunk before he starts work.’
    ‘Not at all. He is always de bonne humeur . Gardez le sourire , mes amis! he says. Sometimes I think all the meals he has ever eaten are still in his stomach. I will bring you the menus.’
    Once they had sat down at their table Amanda told Sidney that she was nervous. ‘I hope we don’t put people off . . .’
    ‘Why would we do that?’
    ‘People will think we are discussing the murder.’
    ‘The whole of Cambridge is discussing the murder.’
    Amanda took a sip of champagne and then put her glass down. She was not in the mood for it. ‘I’m worried about Ben, Sidney.’
    ‘I’m sure.’
    ‘Yesterday he told me something that’s rather haunted me.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘He was almost talking to himself. I think that he had almost forgotten I was in the room. He was speaking out of grief, as it were, and then he suddenly said something that struck me as incredibly moving.’
    ‘What was it?’
    ‘ “Dom gave me the love my father never did.” ’
    ‘Did he explain what he meant?’
    ‘Not entirely. But he had rather a brutal upbringing. His mother died when he was away at school and he was not allowed to come home for the funeral. He was bullied for being small and effete and he lost himself in his work. He was the first member of his family to get into Oxford but his father resented him for reading history and wanted him to study engineering and join the family firm. When Ben refused, his father kicked him out and cut him off. Ben’s very frightened of him.’
    ‘Then why were they both in the play? It does seem very odd.’
    ‘Perhaps you should go and see Frank Blackwood?’
    ‘I do have a few questions.’
    Amanda continued. ‘Fortunately, Ben made some friends at Oxford and one of them arranged the job with Lord Teversham. Then, just when he was happy and had prospects, this happens.’
    ‘How well do you think he knew Lord Teversham?’
    ‘Is that a leading question, Sidney?’
    ‘Only if you take it to be one.’
    ‘I don’t think there was anything funny going on, if that’s what you are getting